


Miscellaneous Femslash Ficlets

by Salmon_Pink



Category: Ghostbusters (2016), Jawbreaker (1999), Mad Max Series (Movies), Pitch Perfect (Movies), Scooby-Doo! (Live-action Movies), Scream (TV)
Genre: Community: femslash100, Dirty Talk, F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-28
Updated: 2016-07-23
Packaged: 2018-04-11 18:58:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 1,499
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4447937
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Salmon_Pink/pseuds/Salmon_Pink
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Assorted ficlets from miscellaneous fandoms, all featuring femslash pairings.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Comebacks (Pitch Perfect)

**Author's Note:**

> All ficlets under 500 words, all individually rated. Fandom noted in each chapter's title, for easy browsing. Additional content notes, such as kinks and spoilers, included where necessary. This miscellaneous collection is intended for fandoms that I haven't created a dedicated [series](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Salmon_Pink/series) for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  _Pitch Perfect_ , Beca/Kommissar, rated PG-13. Spoilers for _Pitch Perfect 2_. Written for [Femslash100](http://femslash100.livejournal.com/), prompt "squirm".

“Interesting performance,” Kommissar says, with that haughty smirk on her face. 

Beca bristles, heart beating way too fast. “Yeah, well, your _face_ is interesting, and also perfect!”

Oh God, at some point during the celebrations she lost the other Bellas, and now there’s nobody to hold her back from humiliating herself.

Kommissar’s smirk gets broader. “ _Relax_ , feisty little maus, I was paying you a compliment.”

Beca’s heartbeat, if possible, gets even _faster_.

“Oh, right, well, that’s -” Beca’s sure she was good with words, once upon a time. “Told you we’d kick your ass!”

Kommissar is really ridiculously tall, and she’s using every inch she has over Beca to _loom_. When she smiles like that, it bears all her teeth, like a sexy wolf or something more articulate than what Beca’s brain can currently manage.

“So, yeah! World champions!” Beca’s pretty sure she’s shouting, even though Kommissar’s so close they’re sharing the same _air_. 

Thankfully Kommissar shuts her up, with a kiss so hard and fast Beca actually _yelps_ into the press of her lips.

“Oh God, _finally_ ,” Beca manages to gasp when Kommissar pulls back for air, before she’s descending on Beca’s mouth again.

Kissing her brutally and, holy shit, lifting Beca up like she weighs _nothing_ , and Beca’s instantly squirming in her arms, making all these needy little noises.

“I’m going to wear you like a _glove_ ,” Kommissar growls.

“Yeah, okay, you should do that,” Beca nods, dazed. 

Kommissar laughs against her mouth, the sound dirty and _heated_.


	2. Greased The Goodbye (Mad Max)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  _Mad Max_ , Capable/Furiosa, rated NC-17. Spoilers for _Mad Max: Fury Road_. Set after _Mad Max: Fury Road_. Written for [Femslash100](http://femslash100.livejournal.com/), prompt "motor oil".

It’s spiritual, like a ritual. A prayer offered up to no-one but the road. Capable watches the steady motion of Furiosa’s fingers, smears of oil turning her brow dark, darker.

Capable _hates_ it.

Because that oil, it means Furiosa’s going out again. 

The War Boys, the ones that survived, they’ve found shelter wherever they can. Isolated at first, but now the scouts say the gangs at Gas Town and the Bullet Farm, they’re _communicating_.

Which can’t be good. Combine those supplies, and the Citadel’s looking at a whole fuckload of trouble.

So Furiosa’s leading the run on Gas Town, and Capable’s watching her prepare, and hating every second of it.

“You’re coming back, right?” she asks. Stupid question, stupid stupid, but Capable’s allowed to say it, allowed to worry. Allowed to grab at Furiosa’s waist, drag her in for a kiss that makes her chest hum like an engine.

Lifting her skirts, impatient like _crazy_ , and Furiosa smirks against her lips. Slides down to her knees and shoves at Capable’s legs with a firm hand, like Capable’s not already spreading her thighs wide as she can, making room. 

First touch of Furiosa’s lips against her cunt, it makes her shout, too wound up, too needy. Too scared of what’s to come, but she can forget, just for a moment. Palm at Furiosa’s scalp, oil smudged across her inner thighs as Furiosa _grinds_ her mouth against her, so smutty.

Later she’ll have oil underneath her fingernails when she watches Furiosa leave.


	3. Stop Motion (Scream)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  _Scream_ (TV series), Rachael/Audrey, rated G. Set before Season One's _Pilot_. Character spoilers for _Scream_. Written for [Femslash100](http://femslash100.livejournal.com/), prompt "Legos".

“I’m trying to concentrate,” Rachael hisses, and she’s not going to smile, she’s totally not. Except, well, she already _is_ , because Audrey’s fingers are dancing up her spine, making her squirm.

Okay, it’s _Audrey_ , so her fingers aren’t so much ‘dancing’ as they are ‘stomping with attitude’. Either way, it still tickles.

“How much longer?” Audrey huffs, and the warmth of her breath against Rachael’s ear is _way_ too distracting. 

Rachael knows Audrey is perfectly capable of patience, especially when it comes to film, even something as painstakingly slow as stop motion. So she’s being bratty for the sake of it and, oh, Rachael’s smiling again.

She smiles a _lot_ around Audrey, and it’s only thanks to that fact that she’s realised how little she smiled _before_ Audrey came into her life.

Getting misty-eyed is _really_ not going to help her concentration, though, so she focuses on the multicoloured plastic held between her fingers instead. “Perfection takes time,” she says firmly, adding another streak of blood-red paint to the teeny Lego face staring up at her. 

“Alright, Scorsese,” Audrey teases, pressing a kiss to the back of Rachael’s neck that makes her _shiver_.

Rachael bites her lip, and she’s _still_ smiling. As long as Audrey’s with her, Rachael thinks she might never _stop_.

“Let me get this shot,” she grins playfully, still focused on the Lego instead of Audrey, “and maybe I’ll give you a _reward_ for waiting.”

She doesn’t need to look to know Audrey’s smiling just as wide.


	4. Clomped (Scooby-Doo)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  _Scooby-Doo_ , Velma/Daphne, rated PG. Written for [Femslash100](http://femslash100.livejournal.com/), prompt "boots".

The abandoned hotel creaks ominously around them as they creep through the corridors. Velma strains her ears, practically holding her breath as she listens for signs of the Bellhop Ghost.

Unfortunately, all she can hear is the familiar clomp-clomp-clomp following her towards the lobby.

“That really isn’t the most _appropriate_ choice of footwear, Daphne,” Velma mutters, and the clomp-clomp-clomp sound stops abruptly.

“What do you mean?” Daphne asks, and when Velma turns around Daphne’s arms are crossed, a frown on her face. “These boots are totally cute!”

She cocks her hip, sticks her leg out to showcase the shiny purple PVC material.

“Go-go boots aren’t particularly suitable for solving mysteries,” Velma begins, a whole lecture ready about attire most apposite to their job, but Daphne shakes her head, holds up a perfectly manicured hand to stop her.

“I’ve worked cases wearing these boots before,” she insists. “Looking good keeps me sharp. Besides, there are other aspects of my outfit that are _far_ more inappropriate.”

Velma blinks behind her glasses. “What do you mean?” she asks, already dreading the answer.

“Like the fact that I’m not wearing any underwear,” Daphne grins.

Velma splutters, eyes dropping to Daphne’s skirt, to the hem that barely reaches down to mid-thigh.

“Crack this case and I’ll show you,” Daphne winks, and then she’s sashaying down the corridor, the clomp-clomp-clomp of her boots echoing off the cobwebbed ceiling.

It turns out a turtleneck sweater isn’t all that appropriate either, because Velma’s suddenly sweating beneath her clothes.


	5. Fine Little Favourite (Jawbreaker)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  _Jawbreaker_ , Courtney/Marcie, rated NC-17. Assplay. Dirty talk. Written for [Femslash100](http://femslash100.livejournal.com/), prompt "submit".

Courtney doesn’t love anyone except herself. Which is just fine, because life’s easier when you’re not worried about stupid bullshit, like trust and affection and other people’s feelings.

But if she ever _did_ love somebody, Marcie’s probably the likeliest candidate. Because Marcie may be a fucking idiot, but she’s also a sheep. So eager to please, so ready to do whatever Courtney desires. And Courtney desires a _lot_.

Marcie’s pretty enough. Her boobs aren’t as big as Courtney’s, her legs aren’t as long as Julie’s, her face isn’t as classic as Liz’s. Courtney makes sure to remind Marcie of all those flaws as often as she can, but the compliments are something Marcie has to _work_ for.

Like she is right now, on her hands and knees, three of Courtney’s fingers shoved up her pussy. She’s moving her hips, making these loud and desperate noises that Courtney always gets off on. 

“So fucking loose, you _slut_ ,” Courtney hisses, thrusting in hard and deep. “Bet you’re tighter back here.” Leaning forward, running her tongue up the cleft of Marcie’s ass, hearing her wail, feeling her buck under Courtney’s mouth.

It doesn’t matter how far Courtney pushes, Marcie’ll take it all and beg for more.

“Hot little ass,” she grins, Marcie shivering for the praise.

Marcie will always be her favourite. She submits to having her ass eaten with the same enthusiasm she submits to _all_ Courtney’s demands. Courtney never has trouble controlling _anyone_ , but with Marcie she barely has to try.


	6. Got You Good (Ghostbusters)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  _Ghostbusters_ , Holtzmann/Patty, rated G. Set after _Ghostbusters_. Character spoilers for _Ghostbusters_. Written for [Femslash100](http://femslash100.livejournal.com/), prompt "I've got you".

There’s a ring of bruises around Holtzmann’s wrist, five points of colour in the shape of Patty’s fingertips. Patty’s hand had been clammy and heated with panic as she held tight, dragging Holtzmann back up, frantically muttering, “I’ve got you, _I’ve got you_.”

Erin may be the one who keeps getting slimed, but apparently Holtzmann’s the one destined to get thrown around. This is the third damn time she’s been thrown through a window or off a fire escape or over a balcony.

It’s also the third time Patty’s been there to catch her, always pulling her back to safety.

Holtzmann smiles to herself, pushing down on the bruises, exhaling softly at the dull ache.

“You okay?” Patty murmurs, holding out a soda.

Holtzmann responds by waving her wrist under Patty’s nose. “War wound,” she announces proudly. “I need medical attention.”

It’s bull, of course. She gets worse bruises from her duffle bag bumping against her hip. But Patty smiles affectionately, even though she rolls her eyes too. “I’ve got you,” she says, pressing the soda can to Holtzmann’s bruises, and Holtzmann doesn’t know if it’s the cool metal on her skin or Patty’s words that make her gasp softly.

Her eyelashes flutter, and she tilts her head back, grinning up at Patty. “Oh, it’s gonna take more than that,” she drawls. “I’m _dying_ here.”

“Oh yeah?” Patty smirks wryly, already leaning down for a kiss, and the bruises on Holtzmann’s wrist throb wonderfully with the quickening of her pulse.


End file.
